Taste of Riddle
by RiddleMeNew
Summary: "She doesn't care that it's because he's breaking. He reminds her of Tom and it's been so long since she's had her Tom. Things are slipping and she's taking what she can get." Set in 6th year. Implied sex. It's less of a lemon and more like lemonade. OC included and POV. Will do a Harry encounter if people review. Give it a chance.


Jade lays down on the bed and runs her fingers across the black silk.

She thinks about last year and the one time she actually let Blaise in here. It was calmer than what she was used too with him. A lot less rough. A lot more gentle. And a lot harder to pretend he was Tom.

So she didn't bother. She let him be Blaise for their final escapade. It was throughly enjoyable but still lacking. Not through any fault of his own. She thinks that it was just that little bit of disappointment that comes whenever you're finally forced to realize that the other person isn't who you'd like them to be.

She imagines it's what the littlest Weasel feels whenever she's with Thomas. The thought makes her smile.

There's a knock at her door. She doesn't bother to get up or to fuss about who it could be at this hour. She merely drawls, "Open." and wonders why he still bothers to knock.

He walks through the door swiftly and locks it behind him. For the slimmest of moments his grey eyes meet her green ones before he invites himself into her bathroom. She scoffs at the ceiling when she hears the shower turn on.

She plays with the idea of reminding him he just came from the bleeding Room of Requirement and that he could shower and sleep there instead. But she knows what he'll say.

_"As if I could do anything of the sort** in there**."_

He's lucky, she guesses, that Hogwarts lets teacher apprentices get their own rooms since they're expected to need privacy for research.

Even luckier that her room is four doors before Snape's chambers. Goodness knows what he'd do if the wards in front his office went off at this hour.

She wonders briefly if she should finally make him sleep on the unused spare cot she got when this whole thing was arranged. She figures she'll let him decide.

And then she laughs at the notion of her letting anyone but herself decide anything.

* * *

Draco walks out the bathroom, dripping wet and towel-clad and stops short. He raises one delicate, blond eyebrow at the cot on the floor before turning to look at her. Jade just smiles.

He steps deliberately over it - the way he figures she wanted him to by the way her smile widens. He stands in front of her for a second before dropping his soaking body on the fine black silk next to her. From the way she scowls he guesses she thought he'd have the common decency to dry himself first. He smiles as the wetness spread through the fabric. She stares at him reproachfully before smiling wickedly and asking, "Made any progress?"

Draco scowls and she laughs. She laughs because she's angry at him - because it's been four months and he's still at square one - and she wants to make him angry too.

It works. He's on top of her and suddenly she can't laugh anymore because there's a tongue down her throat that tastes like frustration and spite and bitterness and fear.

She can't help but think how different it is from the taste of arrogance and confidence and naïvety that she stole during the Yule Ball to prove a point.

His hands undo the band around her waist and her robe slips off to show that he never had a choice about where he was going to sleep in the first place.

Draco scoffs slightly before burying his head into her neck and running his hands up her sides in away that barely makes contact and yet can be so clearly _felt_.

Jade shudders into the wet silk beneath her and a small moan breaks free. She can feel the smirk against her skin. She grabs hold of his hair and _pulls_. He gives a shout before she brings his lips back to hers and again she can taste spite and bitterness but there's anger as well and she can't help but think, '_Almost_'.

He pulls his lips away almost as soon as she brought them down. He stares at her and there's a fierce glint in his eyes that makes cold grey seem so much like never ending black that the blond hair confuses her before his head disappears below her waist.

Everything goes so slow from there. Wonderfully, blissfully, frustratingly slow. It doesn't matter how much she pulls at the head of blond hair or scratches at the arms on her thighs because he will not stop teasing. And it drives her mad. Beautifully mad.

It's later, when his hair is back in her sight and tickling her nose that she realizes his towel is still on. She grows cross with herself and removes it. She feels the smirk against her breast and wants to smack him.

Seconds later, when her hand goes below his waist and his mouth releases her in surprise, the satisfaction makes up for it.

Draco slips his hand beneath her thigh and pushes her leg up making her break contact. He leans forward with a moan and she can barely gasp before his lips are on hers.

This time he's satisfaction and hunger and power and he's _so close_ she could scream in frustration but she doesn't because he does that thing he does that make her vision go white.

* * *

It's hours later and Jade fancies she could hear birds singing if they weren't in the dungeons.

She looks at Draco. He's asleep. That the-apocalypse-could-happen-right-now-and-I-wouldn't-even-twitch kind of sleep, that Blaise swears you only get after the best shag in your life.

She smirks into his chest and let's him pull her closer like some oversized Teddy Bear.

She puts her lips against his and tastes nothing but she tries to imagine that it's the arrogance and confidence and naivety she tasted in fourth year. But it doesn't fit this Draco. And she tries to pinpoint why. What made him change. What makes him almost taste like Tom.

And she figures that's what. That crazy, broken, repulsive caricature of Tom that calls himself Voldemort. That Dumbledore swears is the same as the Tom she wants even though it's not. She figures he's messed with Draco - arrogant, confident, naive Draco and filled him with spite and bitterness and anger and hunger and power and all the other Tom things that she wishes she could have and control and own.

She frowns and wonders if Draco's just that impressionable or if Tom just has that effect no matter how not-Tom he is.

She's half asleep before she decides the latter is true and wonders what Harry Potter might taste like then.

The thought is washed away by a dream of the 1940's, bomb shelters and mouths that taste the way you want them to.

* * *

I**f anyone has questions just PM and I'll answer. There's a lot you're not going to understand about Jade's verse till I write more though. :/ Her bio is on my profile for those who are interested. **

**That Harry bit is just in case I wanna continue it. So I will leave this as in progress foR now. Later. **


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